Turning the Tables
by J9
Summary: Post Chosen, Faith turns the tables on Robin (Faith-Robin)


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Title: Turning the Tables

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Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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Pairing: Faith/Robin

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Spoilers: _Chosen_ and everything up to it

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Summary: Robin's body feels abused, skin bruised, muscles aching.

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Notes: For the LiveJournal First Lines1000 Challenge 5. I was supposed to be writing 11, but this came out instead. Again, after last weekend, inevitable. 

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Robin's body feels abused, skin bruised, muscles aching. That's the first thought that comes to him when he wakes, swiftly followed by the realisation that there's nothing new in that. In the few months since he revealed his parentage to Buffy, he's been involved in more than his fair share of fights, and he's been fighting vamps solo for even longer than that. He knows too that when Sunnydale fell, he was still bearing the marks of his encounter with Spike, so on top of all that, almost becoming Bringer Shish-Kebob was the straw that broke the principal's back. 

It takes him a long time to open his eyes, even though they're probably one of the only organs in his body that haven't sustained some form of bruising. He's tired though, mentally and physically, and he has no idea how long he's slept for, or even where they are. He dimly remembers some fleabag motel, a story about being refugees from Sunnydale, Giles and Xander helping him to his room, the room that Faith insisted he have to himself…

The thought of Faith is what finally makes him open his eyes, because he distinctly remembers her lying beside him, her arms around him, supporting him, as he went to sleep, and she's definitely not beside him now. His eyes move slowly around the room, finally finding her looking out the window, her back to him. Her shoulders look stiff, her posture rigid, and he can't even guess at the thoughts that are going through her head. She's not one of the only two Slayers in the world anymore, and while she's still a wanted fugitive, he can't imagine that it would be too hard to fake her death; he's sure plenty of Sunnydale denizens will be starting new lives with new identities. She could easily do the same. 

He just wonders where, if at all, he fits into her plans. 

He looks at her for a long time before looking's not enough, then tries to lift himself up, intending to join her. His aching body is having none of it though, pain searing through every limb, a groan escaping from his lips before he can stop it. He collapses back against the pillows, almost missing her rapid turn, the fearful expression that crosses her face. 

Almost, but not quite. 

The fear is gone by the time she's sitting down on the bed beside him, though he's sure he can see worry lingering in her eyes. "About time you woke up," she says, a teasing note in her voice as she takes his hand in hers, and he's relieved to find that that, at least, doesn't hurt. 

"Not all of us have Slayer healing powers," he reminds her, managing to smile himself, though only briefly. "What time is it?"

She shrugs. "Late. Xander dropped by a little while ago with munchies and stuff…" His stomach roils at the thought of food and he closes his eyes again, so he can only hear the smile on her face when she continues, "I don't think the local cuisine is up to much, but it's better than nothing." 

The pressure of her hand on his increases, and he prises open his eyes. "I'm not that hungry," he demurs, and she shakes her head. 

"Well, you gotta eat…"

Slowly, carefully, he lifts his free hand, places it over hers, and the motion stills her tongue. He's smiling up at her, and she grins back at him, dropping her head so that her hair falls across her cheeks, just enough to obscure the red that he can see creeping up there. He's never seen Faith like this before, and he thinks he could get used to it. "Have you been here the whole time?" he asks her, and she shrugs as she looks up, but the red on her cheeks doesn't diminish. 

"Hey, you don't think I'd let anyone else near you before I got my surprise, do you?" 

She says it lightly, but she's referencing the promise they made in the high school basement, the one he'd referred to already in the bus, and that, combined with the look in her eyes does more to soothe Robin's aches and pains than any medication ever could.

They share a moment where they're just looking into one another's eyes, but then Faith shifts slightly, her gaze dropping, shoulders stiffening. Guessing that she wants to diffuse the heaviness of the moment, Robin squeezes her fingers, quipping, "I never pictured you as the nurse type." A deliberate pause, where he purses his lips in apparent thought. "Though on the other hand…" 

Her jaw drops slightly, though he's pretty sure she's heard and said worse than that in her lifetime. Then she throws her head back, laughing a low, throaty laugh that, like the look in her eyes moments earlier, goes a long way to making Robin forget that he's a walking bruise. She sobers for a moment, just long enough to drawl, "And there was me thinking schoolgirl was your kink…" before she's laughing again, and her laughter is infectious, at least until Robin actually laughs. That causes pain in his stomach as if the Bringer's sword has run him through all over again, and they both stop laughing quickly, her hands going to either side of his torso. 

"I'm fine," he tells her, when he's able to talk again, but she doesn't look convinced. "Just don't make me laugh." 

"No laughter… check." Her face is serious as she looks down at him, and though he's supposed to surprise her, she must decide to turn the tables, because she moves so that she's lying down beside him, her head on his chest. 

"None at all," he murmurs, all urge to laugh, or talk, forgotten, as he wraps his arms around her, holds her tightly.

Robin's body feels abused, skin bruised, muscles aching.

But he's never felt happier in his life.


End file.
